


Good Tidings

by mydogwatson



Series: One Fixed Point: 2020 Advent Stories [7]
Category: Sherlock TV
Genre: Case Fic, Fluff, M/M, Nutrition tips, Snogging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27946286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydogwatson/pseuds/mydogwatson
Summary: John knows he is naive. People in holiday costumes are having a bad week. Romance.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: One Fixed Point: 2020 Advent Stories [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035588
Comments: 24
Kudos: 85





	Good Tidings

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, happy 7 December. I hope the edit on this is okay, as right in the middle I got a terrific ocular migraine. By the time I got back to it, time was pressing. I tried to be careful, but if I missed something, let me know! Sherlock and John seem into fluff these days.
> 
> I keep forgetting to post the prompts! Today’s is Friends and Family.

I bring you good tidings of   
great joy.

-Luke 2:10

It began, of course, with Mrs Hudson.

And it came as a surprise to me, although god knows it shouldn’t have. After all, I _have_ met Sherlock Holmes before. Call me naive and I wouldn’t argue. In my defence, such as it is, it was morning and I was having breakfast. Mrs Hudson came bustling in, carrying a plate of nicely crisped bacon. “You need protein,” she said sternly, eying our table, judging our meal. I was having toast slathered with strawberry jam, whereas Sherlock’s plate held toast dripping with honey. “Protein is important to start your day.”

Clearly, she had been watching some chat show doctor again, but I wouldn’t argue with some lovely bacon. It was certainly better than the last time, when all she would talk about was ‘purging.’ I plucked a rasher off the plate. “Thanks, Mrs Hudson.” 

She put a two rashers on Sherlock’s plate and I glared at him until he cut a tiny bit and put it into his mouth.

“You want some tea, Mrs Hudson?” I asked politely.

“Oh, no, dear, thank you. Off with Mrs Turner to a coffee morning at the senior centre.” She could not resist tidying a bit first, however.

Sherlock layered his bacon between two slices of honeyed toast and took a bite.

And I, innocent that I was, returned to the newspaper, enjoying this start to the day.

Mrs Hudson finished stacking dirty dishes in the sink and turned to go.

“Oh, by the way, Hudders,” Sherlock said languidly, “you probably want to know that John and I have embarked on a romantic relationship. I understand that people take an interest in that sort of thing.”

I spit tea down the front of my shirt.

Our landlady, who had almost reached the door, whipped around. “What? Really? Oh, at last!” She laughed in delight and clapped her hands, before coming to embrace a reluctant Sherlock, who held his bacon-and-honey sandwich safely out of the way.

She gave me a hug next. “I am so happy for you boys,” she said.

I could tell that she was already planning how to tell Mrs Turner her news. And probably everybody else at the bloody coffee morning as well. Finally, she headed for the door again, still twittering. Then she paused. “And you boys don’t mind me. I can just turn up the volume on my telly.” Giggling, she finally left.

I stared at Sherlock, who had finished his sandwich and was making another. He would not be interested in eating again for three days. “You had to do that, did you?”

He shrugged. 

“She thinks we’re up here having wild sex, you know.”

The truth was that the kiss in the grotto three days ago was all there was. We were both still...considering the implications. There had been some touching, casual and affectionate. But that was it.

Sherlock glanced at me. “Does that bother you?”

Echoes of ‘I’m not gay’ filled the room. Was this a test?

I stood up and headed for my room to change my shirt. “Only that it’s not happening,” I replied over my shoulder.

Let the idiot think about that for a while.

*

Fool me once...

Who am I kidding? Sherlock has been fooling me for years.

But the fact that I relaxed after breakfast [because I worked to justify his loose lips by agreeing that it was probably a good idea that the woman who was in and out of our place all the time knew] marks me as an idiot indeed. But relax I did.

By the time I had changed my shirt and called the surgery where I worked off and on to see if they needed me for the day [they did not], the event at breakfast had faded. And there was a case!

Lestrade texted while I was washing the dishes Mrs Hudson had stacked and immediately Sherlock was dashing about getting ready to go, demanding that I put my shoes on and ‘hurry, John, it’s an odd one!”

From the details he gave me in the taxi, it did sound odd.

A man dressed in a reindeer costume had been found hanging from a decorated lamp post near Seven Dials. People in odd costumes seemed to be having a very bad holiday season of it, I pointed out, and Sherlock agreed.

The usual collection of the supposed experts from the Yard were already gathered when we jumped from the cab. Well, he jumped from the cab, while I stayed behind to pay for the ride and then had to move quickly to catch up.  
The body was still dangling from the lamp post, although the specialists were hovering impatiently. “Quickly, Sherlock,” Lestrade was saying as I approached. “This sort of thing is apparently bad for business, as half-a-dozen merchants have told me already.”

“Hmm,” was Sherlock’s reply as he stepped closer to the body. “John,” he said after a hasty but no doubt exacting study. “Your thoughts?”

I did my usual. “Dead before he was strung up,” I said.

“Exactly.” He waited for more.

I sighed and looked again. “Poisoned, I think,” was my judgement after sniffing the mouth and smelling almonds. “Nice to see the classics still being practiced,” I said and he smirked. Sometimes I wonder when my reactions began to reflect his.

When we had both exhausted what we could see on the unfortunate man’s corpse, we moved over to Lestrade and let the lab folks take our place.

Lestrade looked tired, as if his day had been too long already. “I was supposed to have the day off,” he said mournfully. “Planning to do all my Christmas shopping.”

“But this is more fun,” Sherlock replied. “What can you tell us?”

He flipped open his notebook. “According to the ID on the body, he is Daniel Goode. Lives—lived—in Canada Water. Business card says he worked as an events planner.”

Sherlock was watching as they finally got the poor git down from the pole and into a body bag. “Any idea why he was dressed as a reindeer?”

“I don’t know. Killer with a lot of holiday spirit?” Maybe all of us who deal with this kind of thing have a warped sense of humour.

I wrote down the addresses that Lestrade gave me, he warned Sherlock not to get out over his skis, and we started to leave. Then Sherlock paused. “By the way, John and I have started a romantic relationship. Although we are not yet having wild sex.” Then he stalked off to wave down a cab.

Lestrade looked at me.

After a moment, I just shrugged and followed Sherlock, trying to think what I should say to him.

In the end, what emerged was only, “Canada Water, I assume?”

*

It was one of those nights when I was, it seemed, too tired to sleep.

The Case of the Poisoned Reindeer had finally ended satisfactorily for all [well, save for the obvious exceptions of the dead man and the killer, of course] and i had even had the time to drag out some Christmas decorations. But now I could not sleep.  
It occurred to me that perhaps all of Sherlock’s talk about the wild sex we were not having was creating a certain amount of...tension. There were probably a couple of ways that tension could be alleviated, but all I really had the energy for at the moment was to go get a glass of milk.

In case Sherlock had fallen asleep on the couch again, I didn’t want to wake him up, so I moved very quietly down the stairs. There was a faint glow coming from the sitting room and I paused.

Sherlock was speaking very softly, obviously on his phone. “...well, you were not asleep, so the point is moot.”

It was his Talking with Mycroft voice, although the fact that Sherlock had actually placed the call was unusual. I should gone for my milk, but instead I just stood there, silent and curious.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do have something to say. But first, I want you to know that I am only telling you this because you would soon sniff it out anyway and it is _my_ news to share.”

There was a pause. Maybe Mycroft was speaking.

“My news is that John and I have embarked on a romantic relationship. If you want to inform Mummy and Daddy that is fine. But please do not comment on our sex life.” He gave Mycroft no time to comment on anything, because the glow faded, meanng he had hung up.

I stood there another moment and then I went into the room and sat down next to him on the sofa. We didn’t speak, but after a moment, I bent forward and kissed him.

What followed wasn’t exactly wild sex, but it was the best snogging session I had ever had. When it was over, we fell asleep right there on the. sofa.

*

“Sorry I missed you, Harry. Just calling to let you know that Sherlock and I are shacking up. ‘Bye.”

“It’s me again. I wanted to amend my earlier message. In actual fact, Sherlock and I have embarked on a romantic relationship. ‘Bye again.”

**


End file.
